Page 33 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Yes, she’d known it was a risky endeavor, and if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that if she’d gone into that hell alone tonight, she would’ve turned right back around and left.
She exhaled loudly, trying to expel the frustration of losing money. “Yes, yes, you’re a bloody hero.” She twisted her body away from him, and he finally let her go.
He slowed his pace. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. However, you were very nearly exposed when you lost your hat. It’s quite evident you are not a gentleman when you lose that accessory.”
She’d considered adopting a wig. Perhaps she’d been foolish not to. “I’ll invest in a wig.”
His brows drew together, darkening his countenance. “I’m beginning to think you should cease this activity entirely.”
She bristled inwardly. “No. We’ll just stick to hells you know are acceptable.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She stopped and threw him a mutinous glare. “This is not your decision. I don’tneedyou to continue.”
“You do if you want your grandmother to remain ignorant of your activities.”
“You’re a beast.”
He hailed a passing hackney coach. “I am merely adhering to the terms of our agreement.”
He spoke as if they had some signed contract. Like amarriage.
She adopted her most imperious tone. “Perhaps this agreement has run its course.”
The coach stopped, and he gave directions to return them to Bolton Street. He held the door while she stepped inside. Again, they had to sit beside each other on the only seat.
He sat next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him as much as the confined space would allow. The lantern hanging outside the window offered meager illumination, but she could see the stern set of his features—his mouth drawn, his brows dipped low.
She straightened on the seat, worried that their association might be at a premature end.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her. “When I saw you hit the floor, I was…concerned.”
She had the sense he was tempering his words. But that would mean he was something more than…concerned. “I said I’m fine.”
He turned his head toward her. “I understand that. Now.” He removed his hat and tossed it on the floor. He raked his hand through his hair, tousling the dark locks. “All right. We needn’t terminate our arrangement. We’ll limit ourselves to hells that are more…sedate.”
Lucy giggled, drawing his sharp attention.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s rather amusing to utter the words ‘hell’ and ‘sedate’ in the same sentence, don’t you think?”
He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dipping. Then he grinned. “Yes.” He collapsed back against the seat. “Good God, that was alarming. You sure you’re all right?” He looked over at her and waved his hand. “Of course you are. You’re made of better stuff than most of the men I know.”
Lucy immediately thought of at least one gentleman of his acquaintance. “Such as Charles?”
“Probably. I can tell your opinion of him diminished when you learned of his penchant for gambling. Don’t judge him too harshly.”
She considered removing her hat as he’d done. What would be the harm? They were done for the evening, and she could put it back on before departing the hack. “You’re kind to defend him, but I don’t know that I can help myself. My father’s habit all but ruined me and my grandmother.”
Dartford nodded. “I do understand, but Charles isn’t a bad sort. Besides, he’s young yet. He may come around before he has a family.”
Lucy pulled her hat from her head and set it in her lap. “I pray that he does, but it’s none of my concern.”
